


His stupid mouth (got me in trouble)

by streetsuss_serenade



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Biting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetsuss_serenade/pseuds/streetsuss_serenade
Summary: “I mind,” Brad says “because you told me that if I so much as looked at you sexually while you were trying to get this assignment done, you would disembowel me with my own Ka-Bar while God, my mother and Santa Claus watched, but you’re sitting in our living room doing that and reminding me of all of the better uses I have for your mouth.”Brad swears like an old man; he also has a thing for Nate’s teeth. Nate won’t allow any hanky-panky to interrupt his formatting.A slightly goofy biting!kink fic in response to a prompt for Nate biting Brad with his “sharpy teeths.”





	His stupid mouth (got me in trouble)

**Author's Note:**

> Based solely on the characters from the miniseries

“Jesus _Fucking_ Christ” Brad gripes from across the room. “What is wrong with you?”

Startled, Nate looked up from his notes and took one earbud out. “What’s wrong with you? I’m not doing anything!”

“Yes, you are! Look at you! Why do you think I took the pen away from you?”

Nate looks down and then looks back to Brad. He genuinely has no idea what he’s doing that’s upsetting, but at least he can answer the second question.

“You said that I was going to gnaw through it and get ink everywhere. That’s why you gave me this.” Nate waggles the pencil. It had been embarrassing, truth be told. Like he was a puppy caught chewing on the furniture.

Brad’s gaze darkens, “And what are you doing now?”

“Writing?”

“Fuck you, Fick. You’re chewing on your goddamn headphones! You’ve got the cord wrapped around your fucking incisor like a goddamn vampire!”

Oh. Now that Brad mentions it, he does, in fact, have a cord in his mouth. He’d been tugging on it absentmindedly while he wrote. He lets it fall from his mouth.

“I don’t see why you mind so much. If I ruin my headphones, I only punish myself.”

“I mind” Brad practically growls, “because you told me that if I so much as looked at you sexually while you were trying to get this assignment done, you would disembowel me with my own Ka-Bar while God, my mother and Santa Claus watched, but you’re sitting in our living room doing _that_ and reminding me of all of the better uses I have for your mouth, and you won’t fucking stop!”

That’s fair, actually. 

But something’s still off. Brad looks genuinely thrown off which is...interesting. Not that they don’t have a healthy sex life, but the sight of Nate across a room isn’t usually the kind of thing that ruins Brad’s whole evening. Nate thinks about the precipitating incidents and has a thought.

“Is it my mouth you have other uses for? Or something more specific?”

Brad hesitates, only for a second, but it’s long enough. 

“Irrelevant, given that my main concern in this scenario is how I’m going to get through this assignment of yours without hogtying you to the bed because you came at me with a knife.”

Nate bares his teeth at the challenge. Brad’s eyes drop to his mouth, and his eyes go a little unfocused. Gotcha, Nate thinks. 

“It’s cute that you think that altercation ends with you besting me,” he says, “but either way, you’re right. I do need to get this done.” 

As he’s gathering his papers and laptop, he grips the pencil between his teeth and smiles his most innocent smile at Brad. Around the pencil, he says “I’ll get out of your hair.” Brad doesn’t say anything.

*

When Nate gets home from the library, he putters around putting things away and eating a quick dinner over the sink. Lets Brad think he got away with something. After a bit, he wanders into the living room and slides himself under Brad’s arm on the couch.

Brad snorts. “Am I to assume from this blatant attempt at detente that you finished your assignment?”

Nate tucks his head more firmly against Brad’s shoulder. “Mmmhmm. I got the first draft written and the bibliography finished, so I’ll have time for a few rounds of edits before I turn it in.”

There’s a significant pause, and then, “You threatened six different kinds of violence against me for an assignment that isn’t even due tomorrow.” Brad’s voice is warm with reluctant amusement. “You’re such a fucking freak.”

Nate doesn’t feel the least bit badly about his threats. Brad groped him while he was working on his citations. That’s a good way to misformat something, and Nate’s not interested in giving up easy points. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Speaking of being freaky, do you want me to bite you?”

There’s an even longer pause this time before Brad speaks. “Your brain is an enduring mystery. Am I take you to mean sexually? As opposed to you asking if I want you to take a big chunk out of my arm at this specific moment?” 

Nate grins. Brad always gets more formal when he’s flustered. It’s a tell Nate has learned after many dedicated hours of research. In bed. 

“I could, if you want me to.”

“No, thank you, I’d prefer not to get blood on the couch.”

“I don’t think I would draw blood. Not unless I was trying to. ”

“That’s so very comforting.”

“Stop stalling. Are you interested in sexual, non-sanguineous biting or aren’t you?”

“I can’t believe you’re making me talk about this during This Old House,” Brad grumbles, and Nate smiles again. Brad’s being difficult just for the fun of it, and, from the way his fingers have tightened around Nate’s and his thumb is stroking Nate’s wrist because he’s very interested and trying not to give it away.

“I can’t believe you watch This Old House,” Nate counters “and you’re one to talk. You ruined Charlie Rose for me.”

Brad laughs, loud and surprised. It’s Nate’s favorite Brad laugh. “Blow jobs don’t ruin things. They improve them. Additionally, it should be noted that we have atrocious taste in tv.”

“No arguments here.”

“Biting isn’t anything new. It isn’t like we’re particularly gentle.” Brad punctuates this with a pinch to Nate’s other arm, and it’s Nate’s turn to laugh. They’re neither of them particularly easy men, and they both have a tendency to get competitive. No, gentle isn’t the word Nate would use. 

“True, but so far the biting has been mostly incidental, not the main attraction. And given how jealous you got of my study supplies earlier, I was wondering if you’d like it to be.”

The thumb running over Nate’s wrist stills. “Is there any chance I could convince you to be less of an asshole about this?”

Nate pulls away so that he can look at Brad while he says “I assure you, I will be just as respectful as you’ve been with me in the past.”

And then he very slowly drags his teeth over his bottom lip.

Brad lets out a breathless groan as his head falls back against the couch. “I deserve that.”

He does. Nate had made the mistake of expressing an appreciation for Brad’s legs, and Brad has exploited it shamelessly ever since.

Nate stands, tugging on Brad’s hand where their fingers are still intertwined. “C’mon. Let’s see what we can do with this.”

Nate hasn’t had time to work out a plan for this encounter, but it involves his mouth on Brad’s body, so how badly could it go?

As they enter the bedroom, Nate drops Brad’s hand to remove his shirt and then tosses himself on the bed. He watches as Brad carefully strips, folding each of his items of clothing and placing them on at the foot of his dresser.

Halfway through removing his pants, Brad says “Would you stop looking at me like you’re strategizing a plan of attack?”

“But I am.” Nate says “C’mere.”

Brad rolls his eyes but comes, crawling up from the foot of the bed and flopping down next to Nate. “What next, fearless leader?”

Nate leans down and kisses him lightly. They stay like that for a few minutes, playfully chasing each other’s mouths.

Nate waits until the tension and expectation have drained from the air before he makes his move. He ducks quickly and sinks his teeth into the top of Brad’s shoulder.

Brad convulses beneath him like he’s been shocked. 

“Jiminy Christmas” he gasps, “You always were a mean fucker.”

Nate laughs into his neck, tracing patterns with his tongue. “You swear like an old man.”

“Fuck you,” Brad says, but it comes out a bit breathy as Nate carefully scrapes his bottom teeth down the long line of Brad’s shoulder.

“Come on, now,” Nate chides and bites at Brad’s collarbone, “You can do better than that. Has the spark gone out of our relationship already? Where’s the creativity? Where is the famous Colbert flair?”

Nate sucks gently at Brad’s nipple and then slowly drags his teeth over it. When Brad sighs under him, Nate repeats the motion and then closes his teeth around Brad’s nipple and wiggles it in between his teeth. Slowly, he abuses Brad’s nipple until Brad is arching off of the bed, grinding against him and cursing.

Nate pulls off and switches to the other side, deliberately throwing Brad off balance by merely pressing a chaste kiss to Brad’s nipple before moving down to Brad’s ribs where he traces soft patterns with his tongue following up with an alternating pattern of kisses and soft bites.

Brad takes a deep breath, working to control his breathing, and manages, “You want creative insults? Fine. Stop fucking around and actually bite me. Unless the institution you’re paying to brainwash you into an IPA-toting, polo-shirt-wearing, useless, effete ‘it’s not gay if the lights are off’ liberal stereotype has actually succeeded, in which case, never mind, I’ll finish this my damn self.”

Nate rewards him with a bite to the hip bone, taking care to bite slowly and deeply enough to leave teeth marks.

“That’s the way to make a guy feel special. The specificity! The elaborate syntax!” Nate licks over the spot he’s just bitten. “It’s nice to know my work is being appreciated.”

“I’d _appreciate_ if you…” Whatever Brad is about to say is lost as Nate dips his head and sucks on the same spot, drawing a livid purple bruise to the surface under the teeth marks.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Fuck” Brad gasps. 

Nate sits back on his heels and lifts one of Brad’s long muscled legs to his shoulder. He presses a kiss to his shin before taking a quick nip at Brad’s ankle bone. 

“It’s distressing to think I’ve ended up shacking up with such a deviant.”

“Guys who are getting off on the feel of my teeth in their flesh don’t get to throw stones,” Nate retorts, leaning forward to suck bruises into Brad’s thigh, letting him feel the prick of his incisors as he does so.

Brad lets out a strained laugh and says “At least that makes sense! I don’t do anything with my legs other than move from one place to another.”

Nate ignores him. Brad can’t see himself from the outside, doesn’t see that his legs are miles of strong, golden muscles and skin. They’re all warmth and strength covered in soft blonde hair, and Nate has no intention of growing accustomed to the feeling of them beneath his hands or wrapping around his waist.

He bites down next to the first bruise on Brad’s thigh, scraping his teeth over the area repeatedly to see if he can draw the same deep colors with only his teeth.

“Meanwhile” Brad continues, desperation coloring his tone if not his words, “You have things in your mouth _all the time_. You’re constantly sucking, chewing and basically fellating the world. Do you understand how distracting that is?”

Nate does, and never let it be said that he can’t follow where he’s led. He pulls off of Brad’s thigh and moves, lightning fast, to take the head of Brad’s dick into his mouth, sucking hard.

Brad shouts a half syllable that might have been a curse or it might have been the start of Nate’s name, but it gets bitten off as Nate slides slowly down to take more of Brad into his mouth.

He moves gently at first, in contrast to how things’ve been going so far, moving his head in a slow but persistent rhythm. When he feels Brad relax beneath him, accepting the pace, Nate dips his head deeper, and then, on the upstroke, Nate pulls his lips back, shifting so that Brad can feel his teeth, just barely. 

As Nate indulges in what is commonly acknowledged to be terrible manners, Brad comes so fast and so hard that it shocks them both. Nate chokes as Brad’s come hits the back of his throat, pulling off to spit and cough. 

When he catches his breath, Nate opens his eyes to see Brad - sporting multiple purpling marks, covered in his own come - watching him worriedly. One of those things does not match the intended effect of this exercise.

“Sorry, I..”

“Don’t apologize.” Nate interrupts, “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Brad’s face relaxes at that and he stretches his legs a bit wider, giving Nate a gorgeous show. Nate smiles; Brad’s always trying to do better than before.

“It is a shame though,” Nate continues, eyes still on Brad’s face, fingers tracing idly through the mess on Brad’s stomach. “I had such a good plan for us. I was going to mark you up so pretty, front and back, and then give you such a beautiful deep bruise on your ass that you’d think of me every time you sat down for a week.”

Nate’s words are a blast of cold water Brad feels to his core. He’s shaky from coming harder than he has in recent memory, and he’s covered in Nate’s saliva and his own semen. He wants to pull up the covers and sleep for a week. He wants to give Nate everything he’s asking for and more until Nate’s voice loses that placid composure.

Wordlessly, Brad rolls over, knowing that silent obedience will undo Nate more effectively than any smart remark.

As desired, Nate hisses out a breath.

“You’re a dangerous man, Colbert,” he says gently, crawling forward to press a gentle kiss to the tattoo between Brad’s shoulder blades.

“That’s the idea, sir,” Brad says, unapologetic even when Nate swats him lightly on the flank. Someone needs to keep Nate from thinking he controls the universe, and that dubious honor falls to Brad.

Brad’s slowly coming back into his body after his orgasm, beginning to feel the bruises on his hip and thigh ache as he moves. He’s still sensitive and riding the wave between just enough and too much, so he misses what Nate says next.

It might have been a warning because what Nate does next is unexpected. He scrapes his front teeth down Brad’s spine from nape to his ass. It’s light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but it feels weird. Brad doesn’t want to like it, but he can’t deny that the mental image of Nate’s small, perfect teeth dragging on his skin fills him with a shivery warmth.

“Yeah” Nate mutters quietly enough that Brad’s not sure he meant to say it out loud. Brad decides to press his advantage while he still has enough of his wits about him to manage it. He spreads his legs wider so that he’s wantonly on display for Nate.

“Oh, you _fucker_.” Nate groans.

Brad can’t actually get hard again so quickly, but damned if his cock doesn’t give a hearty twitch when Nate’s hands lift his hips and spread him apart. Nates thumb traces a slow circle around his rim, and his tongue follows. Brad clenches his teeth to keep from moaning. 

It’s a wasted effort because as soon as Nate has opened him just a little bit, Nate nips at the sensitive skin. It’s the electric line of pain and pleasure that gets to Brad and, when Nate repeats the motion, he lets out a noise that he won’t acknowledge, except to say that, in a lesser man, it might have been described as a whimper. Nate grunts and his mouth leaves Brad, as he rides his own orgasm. Panting, he leans his forehead on Brad’s lower back. Brad can feel him trembling.

“Now who’s getting off on your teeth in my flesh?” Brad asks, voice hoarse, “I thought you had a plan.”

“Shut up.” 

“It’s fine,” Brad says, generously in his opinion, “We can call it a tie.”


End file.
